The night had become my kingdom. Literally. I glided above the trees, talons ready, eyes scanning every movement. The forest was no longer a mysterious wasteland. It was a chessboard. And I... the mad player, with wings and a slight taste for chaos. I felt alive, terrified, and exhilarated all at once.

  Thalen: — Okay... let's see how far my new gothic owl skills go.

  Instinct: — As far as you dare. But remember: too much arrogance, and the forest will turn you into feathered mush.

  I closed my eyes for a fraction of a second. Just using the wind and vibrations in the air, I could locate a rodent within twenty meters, anticipate its movements, predict its escape. Terrifying... for it. And strangely satisfying... for me.

  Thalen: — Oh. Ohhh. I'm... I'm terrifying. And I'm not even angry yet.

  Instinct: — Terrifying, yes. But you've only used a quarter of your abilities. Your wings can manipulate wind. Your eyes read the night like an open book. Your ears catch every tremor, every heartbeat.

  I jumped from branch to branch. The wind slid beneath my feathers like an invisible partner. I felt... invincible. And simultaneously, very dumb.

  Thalen: — Awesome. I can hunt, fly, spy... but still can't operate a simple elevator in the real world.

  Instinct: — Dark humor is vital. Otherwise, you become a boring megalomaniac owl.

  I glided toward a group of night owls. They watched me warily. I felt their fear and curiosity at the same time. And then, it hit me: I could command respect just by the vibration of my wings and the rush of air. No fight needed... one glance, one posture, and the forest already obeyed.

  Thalen: — Ha. I'm a feathered tyrant. I should have a throne somewhere.

  Instinct: — Start with a branch. Then your kingdom. And most importantly... enjoy making them afraid.

  I descended to a small stream, my eyes reflecting the moon. Every drop, every insect, every movement spoke to me. I could almost anticipate attacks from invisible predators, choose my paths with surgical precision.

  Thalen: — I could almost... fly in perfect silence, strike without warning... and leave before they know what hit them.

  Instinct: — Almost. But "almost" is dangerous. Know every corner of this territory. Every wind current, every fragile branch, every scent.

  Perfecting tight turns, high-speed glides, dive attacks, and talon mastery. The pain of previous falls became fuel. Every mistake made me faster, sharper, crueler.

  I spent the night perfecting every move:

  Tight turns at full speed

  Controlled dives from thirty meters

  Vertical ascents in a single wing beat

  Instant adjustments to wind resistance

  Thalen: — Haha... I'm starting to feel my limits... and they hate me.

  Instinct: — Exactly. But that's what keeps you sharp and deadly. Never forget: a lucid owl is a monster; an arrogant owl is a corpse.

  The forest seemed to applaud... or taunt me. I was no longer a simple human Thalen. No longer just a clumsy owl. I was becoming the architect of the nocturnal sky, a cunning predator with a flair for chaos and dark humor.

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  Thalen: — Good. Perfect branch, tight angles, efficient hunting... kingdom to establish... and maybe a few enemies humiliated for fun.

  Instinct: — Perfect. But remember: a true ruler observes, anticipates, and strikes... unseen. You're still a novice.

  The wind lifted my feathers. The moon bathed the forest in cold light. I glided higher, watching my future kingdom stretch before me.

  Lost little owl? Not anymore. Thalen Rowen, feathered assassin and potential master of Noctsylva, had grasped the extent of his power. And he was going to have devilish fun.

  The forest of Noctsylva breathed in an almost supernatural silence.

  Every branch seemed to hold its breath, every leaf trembled with caution.

  The moon, veiled by black clouds, illuminated only silver shards, twisted like broken glass, on moss and wet earth.

  I perched on a high branch, breathless, euphoric, and trembling at the same time. I had flown all night like a madman, a feathered lord turned deadly acrobat... but something was still missing. Something essential.

  To speak.

  Not to think.

  Not to murmur mentally.

  To speak.

  To produce a sound that wasn't a ridiculous hoot.

  Thalen: — Well... if I want to rule this nocturnal kingdom, maybe I should be able to say something other than "hoo."

  Instinct: — That would be a good start, yes. For now, you look more like a depressed king than a sovereign.

  I raised an eyebrow... well, imagined raising one, because owls don't have that option.

  Thalen: — How do you want me to speak? I have a beak, not human vocal cords!

  Instinct: — Wrong. You have better.

  I froze.

  A shiver ran through my plumage.

  The voice — that sarcastic, protective presence — vibrated differently.

  As if it was bouncing through my bones, my wings, my ribcage.

  A resonance.

  Instinct: — You don't speak with your beak. You speak with the vibration of your body. The owls of Noctsylva can manipulate sound, but you... you can sculpt it.

  Thalen: — ... Sculpt sound? Me?

  Instinct: — If you stop panicking and listen to your own breathing, yes.

  I breathed slowly.

  A deep vibration rose in my chest.

  Not a hoot. Not a bird's cry.

  Something... denser.

  Like a low note played on an ancient instrument.

  Instinct: — Now, send it up your throat. Not to speak, but to shape it.

  The sound vibrated, rose, became sharper.

  I felt my feathers lift slightly, as if they were capturing the echo.

  I tried a word.

  Thalen (broken note): — Vvv... o... i...

  The vibration exploded into a horrible squeak.

  Thalen: — ... Well. I speak like a violin being murdered.

  Instinct: — That was awful. Try again.

  I inhaled deeply.

  This time, I left my wings slightly open, letting air pass through my feathers.

  The sound rose... cleaner, rounder.

  Voice.

  The word came out.

  Distorted, but audible.

  Not human, not animal...

  A nocturnal creature's voice trying to imitate a human.

  Thalen: — V... oi... x...

  Instinct: — There. You're learning. You don't need to be perfect. You need to be clear, distinct, and... intimidating.

  Thalen: — I can do that.

  Instinct, teasing: — You already scare without speaking. Now, you just add the bonus.

  I repeated it, over and over.

  Each attempt vibrated through my bones, amplified by my wings, sculpted by my breath.

  Voice...

  Me...

  Name...

  Thalen...

  Forest...

  The hardest word was "power."

  The sound always broke on the consonants.

  Instinct: — You're forcing too much. Stop hitting the sound. Let it coil.

  I exhaled precisely as she guided me.

  And suddenly:

  Thalen: — Po... wer...

  A full word.

  Clear.

  Cold.

  A word no longer sounding like an animal noise.

  Instinct: — Not bad. You're becoming audible. Finally.

  I stayed still for a moment, heart racing.

  Mastering resonance... that was it.

  Manipulating sound like I manipulated wind.

  Letting vibration speak for me.

  A nocturnal language.

  I finally felt truly dangerous.

  Thalen: — Hey... if I combine this with a silent dive...

  Instinct: — You become a deadly announcement. To be pronounced just before tearing someone apart.

  I smiled inwardly.

  A new skill had been born.

  Discreet, shadowy, perfect for an elegant monster.